


The Great Escape

by FantasticNumberNine



Series: John Watson and the Prisoner of Azkaban [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Crookshanks, Crossover, Diagon Alley, Gen, Knight Bus, Potterlock, Running Away, blowing up aunts, firebolt - Freeform, overachieving!Mycroft, sirius black - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasticNumberNine/pseuds/FantasticNumberNine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After blowing up his aunt, John finds himself alone at night in the muggle world with nowhere to go and quite possibly a lifelong sentence to Azkaban for underage sorcery. He decides to head to Gringott's, where he plans to withdraw enough wizard gold to get himself to Australia, where he can live out the rest of his days as an outlaw in peace. At least, that's the plan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Escape

**Author's Note:**

> *disclaimer*
> 
>  
> 
> I am going to finish this, sporadic as I may be with updates.

John watched as Aunt Marge inflated like an oversized parade balloon, then tore out of the dining room for the cupboard under the stairs--the locked door bursting open with his magic (what was a little unlocking magic when he'd already blown up his aunt?). Leaving his trunk by the front door, John raced up the stairs to his room and pulled a pillowcase full of books and birthday presents from under the loose floorboard and Hedwig's cage from the wardrobe before dashing back to his trunk just as Uncle Vernon stumbled out of the dining room.

"COME BACK IN HERE!" He bellowed, "COME BACK AND YOU PUT HER RIGHT!"

John wasn't having any of it. He ripped open his trunk and pulled out his wand, pointing it at Uncle Vernon.

"She deserved it," John said, his heart pounding too fast. "She deserved what she got. You just, just keep away from me! I've had enough! And, and I'm leaving!"

And then John was alone in the quiet street, hauling his trunk behind him in the dark, Hedwig's cage under his arm. He let his anger propel him forward, not stopping until he was several streets away, where he collapsed onto the low wall of Magnolia Crescent.

John was alone. Stranded in the Muggle world with nowhere to go and no way to contact anyone. And he'd just done some serious underage magic. Panic began to set in. He'd broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry. He'd be expelled for certain. And possibly arrested--or worse, banned from the wizarding world.

He needed to calm down. If he could get to Diagon Alley, he'd have money. He could send an owl to Greg and Mycroft. Tell them he was moving to Australia, isn't that where criminals were sent to anyways? He didn't remember exactly, Dudley had been spitting soggy bits of his textbook at the back of his head that day in class.

Australia was fine. It was far away and sunny. He could probably fly there on his broom. He could do a spell on his trunk, make it feather-light, and strap it to his broom. And he had his dad's Invisibility Cloak, so he wouldn't attract attention. 

John was digging through his trunk for the Cloak when a funny prickling sensation on the back of his neck caused him to straighten up, slowly. The street seemed to be deserted, all the houses were dark, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. He spun around slowly, wand clenched tight in his hand.

Someone, or something, was standing in the narrow gap behind him, and he found found himself squinting into the darkness. If it moved, he'd be able to tell if it was just a stray cat or...

" _Lumos_ ," John muttered, and his wand lit up, shining into the space between someone's garage and their fence where, between them, John saw the hulking outline of a huge creature with wide, gleaming, eyes.

John stumbled backwards, tripping over his trunk and dropping his wand as he fell hard into the gutter.

BANG!

John rolled back onto the pavement with a shout as a gigantic bus screeched to a halt exactly where he'd been lying.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening!"

John regretted stepping on board the moment the bus began to move, he was certain the only reason he wasn't throwing up yet was because he had nothing _to_ throw up. 

He decided to focus on his conversation with Stan Shunpike, to keep the worst of the nausea at bay.

"He murdered _thirteen people_? With _one curse_?"

Perhaps talking about Sirius Black wasn't the best way to make John feel better. Now he was just nauseous and worried he'd be sent to Azkaban for blowing up Aunt Marge. 

As they thundered down Charing Cross Road, John decided he'd lie low until Gringott's opened, and then make a break for Australia as soon as he'd withdrawn as many Galleons as he could carry. 

It was probably not the worst plan, it might have even worked if Cornelius fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, hadn't been waiting for John outside The Leaky Cauldron.

Even more surprising however, was finding out that he wouldn't be punished for blowing up his aunt. No Azkaban. No expulsion from Hogwarts.

"What?" It didn't make sense. "Last year I got an official warning because a bloody house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house! I was told I'd be expelled if there was any more magic there!"

Fudge was flustered, awkwardly glancing away, looking anywhere but at John.

"Circumstances change, John... And, surely, you don't _want_ to be expelled?"

"Of course I don't," said John.

"Well then, what's all the fuss about?" Fudge laughed, the sound a bit forced. "Have a crumpet John, and I'll go see if Tom's got a room for you."

John sat on the bed in room eleven with Hedwig, brilliant bird that she was, on his lap, stroking her absentmindedly as the sky outside lightened bit by bit. There was something extremely odd going on, but exhaustion won over his curiosity.

"It's been a very weird night, Hedwig," John murmured before slumping back and falling asleep, still dressed.

John embraced his new freedom with enthusiasm, going wherever he pleased along Diagon Alley, eating whatever took his fancy and whenever it took his fancy--he went to bed extra late and got out of bed even more late, just because he could. He enjoyed taking his meals in the Leaky Cauldron, where he could watch the other guests. He worked on his homework in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor eating free sundaes as the man himself helped him with his essay on medieval witch burnings. 

A week later, John noticed the crowd outside Quality Quidditch Supplies and edged inside, squeezing his way to the front where he saw the most magnificent broom mounted on a newly erected podium. The sign beside it read, _The Firebolt_. There was nothing John wanted more and needed less, and he went by every day to look at it.

As the first of September drew near, John began looking for signs of Greg or Mycroft--he'd seen Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas ogling the Firebolt, and he'd bumped into Molly Hooper outside Flourish and Blotts with her rather formidable-looking grandmother.

On the last day of the holidays, John had resigned himself to meeting Greg and Mycroft on the train. He'd just stepped out of Quality Qudditch Supplies (one last look) and was contemplating lunch when someone yelled his name.

"John!"

His friends were sitting outside Florean Fortescue's--Greg was very brown and his silver hair nearly white, and Mycroft was covered in freckles and rolling his eyes at Greg's frantic waving.

"Finally!" Greg grinned as John sat down. "We've been looking for you everywhere!"

"How'd you know I was here?" 

"Dad." Greg was still grinning, slurping at his ice cream to Mycroft's obvious disdain, which turned to curiosity as he looked John in the eye.

"What made you blow up your aunt?"

"I, didn't mean for it to happen--" Greg was laughing around his spoon. "I just--lost control."

Mycroft's sharp gaze was unnerving.

"Honestly, I'm just relieved I wasn't arrested, or expelled. I'm still not sure why Fudge let me off--"

"Probably cause you're you, isn't it?" Shrugged Greg, swirling his spoon through the melted remains of his dessert. "Famous John Watson and all that. Anyway, we're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight, so you can come to the station with us. Mycroft's staying with us too--"

"Yes, my parents are off to another line dancing competition and forgot to think through the consequences of leaving Sherlock with Fred and George for two days." Mycroft grumbled through a tight smile.

"But at least you know the business with that diary hasn't left any lasting effects if he's blowing up toilets with the twins--and look at this!" Greg pulled a long thin box from one of his bags and opened it. "Brand-new wand! Fourteen inches, willow, with one unicorn tail-hair! And we got our books, the assistant nearly burst into tears when we asked for two copies of those _Monster Books_."

John was distracted by the three bulging bags in the chair next to Mycroft. "Eh, has the library at Hogwarts burned down over the break, Mycroft?"

Mycroft scoffed, "Don't be stupid, I'm simply taking more subjects than you."

"He's taking _all_ the subjects," Greg whispered loudly to John.

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Mycroft?" John asked while Greg sniggered.

Mycroft ignored them as he counted out coins from a fancy wizard purse.

"Mummy gave me extra money to buy myself an early birthday present--as it's in September. I do believe I'm going to go find something suitable now."

"I'm sure Flourish and Blotts have received new books since this morning."

"I was thinking more along the lines of an owl," Mycroft said snootily, before stalking off with his bags to the Magical Menagerie.

"I should probably get Scabbers checked over," Greg patted his pocket as he got up too. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

John had yet to actually study Divination, but he didn't think he needed to be a Seer to see that Mycroft's new monstrous cat was going to be the source of many arguments in the coming year.

**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions are welcome. :)


End file.
